Withholding Evidence
by BravoKate
Summary: When Abby's tests point to a suspect she believes to be innocent, she decides to hold off on telling the others about the results. She should really know better than to lie to Gibbs.


**Disclaimer: **NCIS does not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Withholding Evidence **

Abby has just finished popping a new CD into her stereo when her computer screen begins to flash. The fingerprints she ran through AFIS have come back. She stares at the block letters on the green bar: POSITIVE MATCH. Crossing her fingers even though she thinks it's a stupid superstition, she holds her breath as a photo ID pops up.

Petty Officer Sean O'Neil, the caption reads. Damn it.

He's not guilty. She _knows _he's not. Just because the kid's a little troubled doesn't make him a murderer. And there're dozens of ways his prints could have gotten on the knife. He was the vic's roommate – he could have borrowed the knife, or cleaned it for him. Or moved it. Or grabbed it by mistake one day. He could have!

_Swish!_ The doors to the lab slide open. Hastily, Abby hits a few keys, and the screen goes blank.

"What've you got for me, Abbs?" Gibbs comes to stand behind her.

She swivels in her chair. "Positive ID on the murder weapon." She grins up at him, preparing for her usual dramatic reveal. "Petty officer Creighton? He was killed with his own knife!"

Gibbs doesn't look particularly surprised. Well, of course he doesn't. When is Gibbs not twelve steps ahead of the rest of the team? "Anything else?"

Abby hesitates. She's torn. If she tells Gibbs that Petty Officer O'Neil's print is on the knife, he's going to think he's guilty. And she knows he can't be. Call it a gut feeling. It happens to Gibbs often enough, so why not to her? Still, it's not like she can withhold evidence. Not from Gibbs. Even she isn't _that _crazy.

So she tells him, "Um, yeah. We've got a partial print on the handle. One that doesn't belong to our vic. It's been wiped, but I guess our killer missed a spot."

"Did you run it?"

"Yeah." She can't tell him. She just can't. Besides, what if focusing all their attention on O'Neil distracts the team from finding the real killer? Abby heaves a mental sigh. She knows there's no justification for what she's about to do. And yet, almost against her will, she hears her own voice saying, "No match yet."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets saying it. But it's too late now. A small, irrational part of her desperately hopes that he will question her answer. That he'll give her an out.

But he just nods, sets the Caf-pow he's carrying on the desk next to her, and turns to go. "Let me know when you find something."

The door closes behind him, and Abby groans aloud. She wants desperately to run after him. To confess. To beg him to forgive her. But it's too late for that, now. There's no going back. Dear God, what has she done?

Withholding evidence is a crime. She knows that. But somehow, that's not the most important thing to her right now. She _lied_ to Gibbs. The one person, maybe in the whole world, whose good opinion she really, _really_ cares about. Every time she thinks about it, she imagines the look that she knows will be on his face if he ever finds out what she's done.

Well, that settles it. He can't find out. Ever.

000000000000

The next morning, Abby is in her lab. Waiting. Well, more like fretting. She can't sit still. The guilt is eating at her, tearing her up inside. She understands, now, why so many crimes are solved due to the urge to confess. She's this close to doing it herself. Because anything would be better than this.

But that's not true, she realizes abruptly. She remembers a conversation she had with Tony, once, about keeping secrets. She'd told him that when you have a big one, a Mother of All Secrets, it eats you up inside until you confess. Well, Abby has a MOAS of her own, now, but she can't confess. Because it would cost her everything. And she just can't take that risk.

Besides, it's not like confessing would make any difference now. Tony came in earlier to tell her that they'd caught the dirtbag. Petty Officer Creighton's girlfriend. Just like she had suspected. The whole thing had gone down late last night, after Abby had left. Creighton's credit card had a few too many charges to local hotels, and it seems they weren't the only one to have noticed. They'd gotten her confession.

So there was no reason for Gibbs to ever know that she'd lied.

000000000000

_Swish! _Abby hears the doors, for once, because her music is so much lower than usual. She hasn't turned it off entirely, because that would make Tony and Ziva suspicious, but she's just not in the mood.

She's so lost in thought that she only notices Gibbs's presence when he presses the first Caf-pow of the morning into her hand. "Tony tell you we caught the girlfriend?"

She tries to smile. "Yeah. I guess _someone_ couldn't handle the thought that lover-boy's attention might be wandering, huh?"

He gives her that brief, half-smile that he seems to reserve just for her. Today, it just makes her feel worse. She can't meet his eyes. If he knew what she'd done….

"Hey, Abbs," he says suddenly. "Did you ever match the partial on the knife handle?"

Oh, God. She looks away desperately. She had been hoping he would forget, at least for a while. Until she could trust herself to answer without giving herself away. To her horror, her throat begins to get tight. Oh, no. She can't cry. She _never_ cries. If she does, he'll know something is wrong.

She tries to keep her voice steady as she answers. "Um, yeah. I got a match last night. It was Petty Officer O'Neil's." Her voice cracks slightly at the end, and he seems to notice. Oh, who's she kidding? Of _course _he notices!

"Abbs?" He sounds puzzled. "What's the problem?"

Despite her best efforts, her eyes begin to well up. She stares at her lap. She can't bring herself to answer.

A large, calloused hand cups her under the chin, lifting her face up to meet his eyes. In them, she sees dawning understanding, mingled with disbelief. When he speaks, his voice is firm. "Abby. _When_ last night did you match the print?"

The tears are falling fast now, and there's nothing she can do to stop them. And still he waits, staring back at her. Unyielding. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she manages to whisper, "Right before you came and asked me about it."

If this were one of Tony's movies, it would be time to cue the dramatic music. She can almost hear it in her head – a loud, _"dun dun DUN!" _

He's silent for a long time. So long that she begins to shift nervously. Finally, she can stand it no longer. She raises her eyes up tentatively. "Gibbs?" Her voice is soft. Pleading. _Please don't hate me!_ she wants to beg him. "Gibbs, I'm _so, so_ – "

He cuts her off with a sharp gesture. His voice is as cold as she's ever heard it. "Not now, Abby. We'll talk later." Without another word, he turns on his heel and leaves, leaving her sitting there feeling nothing short of shattered.

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"Abby?" She hears Tony's voice a few hours later. He and Ziva come into the room and find her sitting in the corner, curled up and clutching Bert to her chest. Seeing the tearstains on her face, they immediately rush over to her.

Tony crouches down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Hey," he says gently, "What's wrong?"

When she just shakes her head, Ziva adds fiercely, "Whatever is wrong, Abby, we will help."

At that, Abby starts crying all over again. "You can't help! Not with this. Gibbs hates me now, and you two will, too, once I tell you why."

"I told you, Abbs," Tony soothes her, "I could never hate you. And you know Gibbs couldn't either."

"That's what you think. I tampered with evidence yesterday. And he found out."

"What?" The shock in Ziva's voice just makes her feel worse.

She nods miserably. "See? I told you you were going to hate me."

They're silent for several long moments, then Tony finally answers. "Nobody hates you, Abbs, but I – I think we're gonna need a little more of an explanation."

So, face buried in her arms, Abby tells them the whole story. "And now Gibbs hates me," she finishes miserably. "And he's going to fire me, and he will never, ever forgive me!"

Tony sighs, and reaches a hand up to rub her back gently. "Yeah, he will, Abby. Trust me. He will."

"Tony is right, Abby, much as it pains me to say that," Ziva adds, drawing a glare from Tony and a small smile from Abby. "I'm sure Gibbs is angry with you," she continues, "but he does not hate you."

Her forehead wrinkles as she frowns at them both. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because he loves you, Abbs," Tony tells her simply. "You screwing up doesn't change that."

00000000000

When Tony and Ziva leave, after warning her that if she ever does something like this again, she won't have to worry about _Gibbs_ killing her, Abby does her best to focus on work. They don't have any active cases, but she pulls up the forensics from a couple of cold cases anyway, figuring she might as well make herself useful before she gets fired.

But she can't concentrate. She can't get the image of Gibbs's disappointed gaze out of her head. She's both impatient and terrified at the thought of him coming to see her. He said they'd talk "later," after all. If only she knew just how far away "later" might be. She's tempted to go find him herself, just to be done with this awful waiting, but she doesn't quite dare. She's too afraid of what he might say.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the sound of footsteps puts her out of her misery.

Gibbs simply stands in the doorway for a long moment, studying her, before nodding towards her chair. "Sit down." His voice is calm and serious, not angry like she was expecting, but the sound of it still cuts straight through her. She obeys quickly, nearly falling into her chair, and watches as he drags a stool over to face her. He sits down, clasps his hands loosely together between his knees, and sighs heavily. "All right, Abby. You want to tell me why?"

"Gibbs, I'm so sorry."

He just stares back at her, before saying quietly, "That's not what I asked."

"I…" She's grateful he's giving her a chance to explain, but she doesn't know where to start. Her words come out in a jumble. "I _knew_ Petty Officer O'Neil wasn't guilty. I just knew it! But you suspected him, and if I'd told you I found his print on the murder weapon, you'd have thought he was the killer, Gibbs! I know you would have! And I couldn't let that happen! And I knew if you just pursued the other leads a little more, you'd find our guy – or, you know, girl – and it wouldn't matter that I hadn't told you about the print."

Gibbs's response is not at all what she's expecting. He leans in close and levels a piercing stare at her. "Abby. Did you really think I'd close the case before investigating _all_ possible leads? That I wouldn't have traced Creighton's phone calls, or checked out his credit card bills? That I'd _assume_ O'Neil was guilty based on one print?"

Abby hangs her head. She had expected him to be angry at her, to be furious that she'd broken his trust. She had thought she was prepared. But the disappointment, the betrayal in his eyes, at the thought that _she_ didn't trust _him_ to do his job? That hurt more than anger ever could.

"I'm _sorry!_" she all but shouts.

"Yeah, Abbs," he says softly. "I know."

She waits, but he doesn't say anything more. Desperate to fill the silence, she bursts out, "It's not that I don't trust you! I do. I swear I do. I just…it just happened before I could think about it. I wasn't planning on lying. It just slipped out! And then I couldn't tell you! I just couldn't. So I convinced myself that it didn't really matter. It's not like I was planning on keeping it to myself forever! I was going to tell you today. One day wouldn't _really _have made any difference."

"You lied to me, Abby." His tone is hard.

"I…yeah. I did. And I'm so, so sorry! And it won't happen again, Gibbs. I _swear!"_ She's crying again by this point. Her breath comes in short gasps as tears pour down her face. She doesn't bother to wipe them as they trail down her chin and neck.

Gibbs studies her a moment longer before speaking. With a heavy sigh, he stands up and murmurs, "All right. Come here."

He opens his arms, and she launches herself into them, flinging her own arms around him. "I'm sorry," she says, yet again. "Gibbs, I'm so sorry."

"Shh," he murmurs, rubbing her back firmly. "Shh, Abbs. I know. It's gonna be OK. Come on, now. Deep breath."

He continues rubbing her back as she catches her breath, and she relishes the feeling of comfort, clinging desperately to him. Finally, she raises her eyes to meet his. "Please don't hate me?"

His eyes soften ever-so-slightly at that, and he just shakes his head. Dropping a soft kiss on her forehead, he gives her one last squeeze before placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her gently away. Leaving one hand where it is, he uses the other to tilt her chin up, and looks her squarely in the eyes. "I have to be able to trust you, Abby. You do something like that again, and you're outta here. You understand me?"

She nods frantically, eyes wide. "I won't, Gibbs. I promise."

"Good."

She looks up at him tentatively. "Um, Gibbs? What are you going to do?"

He tilts his head to the side, frowning as he considers her question. Then he smiles slightly, and says simply, "This."

Taking her firmly by the upper arm, he spins her around and lands a gentle swat on her backside. It doesn't hurt, but she lets out a little squeak all the same, and, just on principle, shoots him an indignant glare.

Still with a ghost of a smile on his face, he loops an arm around her shoulders and speaks quietly against her ear, his voice as firm as she has ever heard it.

"Don't ever do it again."

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**A/N:**Feedback is definitely welcome! I would love to hear from you.


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